


Rough Patches

by CmonCmon



Series: Raising Warriors [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clone Mom and Clone Dad, F/M, Porg Pox, Rancor Feels, Soft Wars, Star Wars AU - Soft Wars, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25471624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CmonCmon/pseuds/CmonCmon
Summary: Shaak Ti tries to give her Commander his privacy, but when Colt isn't answering her comms, she has to find out the reasons for herself.
Relationships: Colt (Star Wars)/Shaak Ti
Series: Raising Warriors [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1835518
Comments: 44
Kudos: 390
Collections: Open Source Soft Wars





	Rough Patches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Project0506](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/gifts), [Primarybufferpanel (ArwenLune)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/gifts).
  * Inspired by [What to Expect When You're Done Expecting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23539966) by [Project0506](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506). 



> I'm back to cribbing off moments in Progie's wonderful Soft Wars series. 
> 
> So many thanks to PrimaryBufferPanel and Jac for being such great betas.

It wasn’t important, exactly. It was nothing that couldn’t wait until morning.

On the other hand, Colt had been off comms for hours. 

She had never deceived herself that she knew everything that happened amongst the brothers in her care, but that was not the same as her commander going silent for an evening.

Blitz had offered a vague, characteristically terse, answer about Colt seeing to an evolving situation.

Which wasn’t an  _ evolving situation _ that he’d thought fit to speak to his general about. 

Shaak refocused herself. It wasn’t that he had chosen to handle whatever it was that didn’t need the beyond-loyal Commander Blitz at his side. It was that he still didn’t feel comfortable bringing a problem to her.

She spotted a conspicuously-matching pair of blue pauldrons rushing off. “Commander Havoc. A moment.” 

He froze.

If she was less of a Jedi, she would stomp her foot in frustration. For all their battle scars and impressive competency, Rancor battalion were not very different from the cadets. Particularly when they imagined themselves in trouble.

“General, sir.” 

She closed the distance as he held a stiff salute.

“I was hoping you could tell me where Commander Colt has gone.” As she came closer, she could see something was different. There was dirt on his armor, and his breathing sounded ragged. “At ease, Havoc.”

“Sir, no sir. He’s…” The words were broken up with coughing, and Havoc swatting at the side of his helmet. “Sir--”

“Please remove your helmet, Commander.” It would be unseemly to laugh.

Havoc all but ripped the helmet off. His face was flushed and she could see more dirt splattered on the seals on his undersuit. “Sorry sir.”

“Simply tell me where I can find Colt, and I will not ask you to explain any--” She gestured up and down at him, the state of his armor, the coughing. “Of this.”

Havoc was no less loyal than Blitz, but he was much more willing to bargain. “First cycle dorms. Bunk 3018’s refreshers.”

“Thank you, Havoc. Dismissed.”

The answer gave her a direction to walk, but nothing helpful beyond it. Shaak couldn’t imagine what would have brought the Commander to that particular area of the facility. The oldest batches of the first cycle had been quarantined from their brothers as they finished building the last of their immunities, but Lama Su had described that experience as painless.

Colt and his brothers had so little privacy, Shaak prided herself on not using the Force to find them or answer questions about their well-being. That did not mean she was above using her innate advantages of her species to prepare herself for all eventualities. 

The moment she pushed open the door to the dimly lit dorm, the sound of whimpers and gentle voices kicked had her concern levels up.

The first cycle cadets were so small. Most were in their bunks or curled into their brother’s bunks together, sighing and sniffling. Shaak moved lightly, afraid to awaken any of the cadets who appeared to be dozing. 

“S-sir?” One of them blinked up as she passed, big golden eyes pained and questioning. He made an effort to struggle to his feet before she could stop him.

“As you were, Cadet,” she all but whispered, moving back to this side to calm him. There was the briefest quiver of his lower lip. She smoothed a hand over his short hair as his eyes fluttered closed. “You are not well.”

That was clear enough. He and his brothers were peppered with blisters and abraded patches of skin, and his cheeks felt hot to her touch. 

“We’ll be okay, sir.” He tried to lift heavy lids as he spoke. “We’ll get better and be good soldiers. ‘Mander Colt said so.”

“I’m sure he’s right,” Shaak promised, rubbing a hand over the small back in comfort. “Commander Colt is very wise.”

She would have said it even if she didn’t feel the man in question move into the bunk room. She felt just as plainly the way he froze when he spotted her.

“General, sir.”

There was something in his tone when he thought she was dissatisfied with him. It wasn’t apology, nothing pleading. If anything, it was the opposite. Something resolute and steeling. Like he prepared for the worst.

She wasn’t dissatisfied, or displeased, or angry, and she could not begin to guess why he thought she ought to be. Maybe not being wherever he had decided to believe she expected him? For not being reachable by comms? Shaak had yet to learn all the different things she was supposed to find disappointing about her men, but they had not disappointed her yet. 

Since he had announced himself, she turned to where he stood, coming out of the attached refresher room, with one of the cadets wrapped in a towel in his arms. His bare arms, she realized belatedly. He was not in armor at all, and only wearing the bottom half of his undersuit, his blacks as she had learned they called them. 

“Commander.” She returned her attention to the now-nearly sleeping cadet to offer him his privacy. Instead, he sat on the empty bunk in the next row and eased the sleeping cadet in his arms down to the thin mattress, so she looked over.

He fussed over his little brother, tucking in limbs, stroking his hair, maybe avoiding meeting her gaze. In the soft glow of the nightlights, Colt was all muscle and shadow, and somehow impossibly gentle with his brothers. Shaak didn’t need the Force to see his tenderness toward them.

“Four more need treatment before they can sleep, sir,” He said, like an apology, like he was delaying her. “It was easier for me to see to them since I have the most control over my own schedule, but I can call in one of the others…”

“Why aren’t they in Medical, Colt?”

The question must have surprised him, because his head jerked up to look at her. The surprise is replaced by resolve, his jaw firming in a way that she had learned meant he was going to be  _ appropriately respectful _ with his next words. “I’ve been informed this reaction falls within the acceptable parameters for a clone. The need for further medical attention would suggest the entire batch is defective.”

If he wouldn’t say it, she would. “They are suffering.” 

“Yes, General. They are.” The words were bit out. Furious.

Colt was so reasonable, so attentive to his duties and to those under his command, it was easy for Shaak to forget he could struggle with them too. Seeing him like this, in whispers, in the low light, down to bare skin and muscle, eyes flashing mutinously, was a reminder. He was every bit the warrior his brothers were. 

The Jedi were not ones to mistake control for weakness. 

“How can I help?”

Everything about him softened, as if he’d expected her to argue against him. “It’s messy work, sir.”

He straightened up enough to gesture to himself, dusted with that same powder she’d seen of Havoc, splattered with dirt. She hadn’t had an angle to see before, but he had tattoos. Two that she could see at least. A four-clawed hand or paw, as big as her own hand. One on the left side of his chest, and a matching one on the meat of his right shoulder.

Those were not what he was showing her, she reminded herself. “I have handled my share of messes, Commander. A bit of dirt will not shock me.”

“Didn’t think it would, sir.” He smiled, and it was a little, tender thing. “But I hope you can forgive the uniform violations.”

She laughed, because it was a joke. Because he could joke with her. “Let’s get started, Commander.”

“Yes, sir.” He stood and she told herself the bunks were too dark for him to notice her flush. “We’ve been getting them good and muddy until they stopped trying to scratch, and then wiping them off.” She followed as he stopped to scoop up another brother and she did the same on the one in the next bed. “After, a dusting of polytalc and off to sleep before they can start up with the scratching again.”

“Polytalc.” That explained it. She cuddled the little brother she carried as he threaded his arms between her lekku and around her neck to cling closer. 

The refresher was startlingly bright compared to the bunks. “Polytalc. No idea why it helps, but that’s what the holonet said.”

“Does it cause trouble breathing?” she asked as she set the little brother down and began removing her own outer layers. Not that she could go as far as Colt had, but she did quite like that robe. 

“Only if someone who comes to help is a di’kut who doesn’t consider what fine particle dust does for a helmet’s air filters,” he grumbled as he brought the two younger brothers to a plastoid crate normally used for small gear, and began slathering the first one with mud in long careful strokes of his hands. 

Shaak stripped down to her tunic and the legging she wore under her skirts. He was out of uniform as well, so she had no reason to be self-conscious. After a moment of indecision, she set her removed layers down next to his discarded armor and the mud-covered top of his blacks. And his comm unit. That did explain why she hadn’t been able to reach him.

Shaak stroked the other little brother’s hair, a lighter brown like Colt’s own. “Alright, little one. Your turn now. Let us see if we can get you feeling better.” 

Colt glanced her way, glowing in gratitude and warm admiration.

Grateful that she was helping his brothers, nothing more, Shaak knew. But, meant what she’d said. She would help his brothers any way she could. 

Even if that was coaxing giggles from the young ones when she flicks a splatter of mud at her Commander.

Especially when he flicks some back.

**Author's Note:**

> There are a lot of planned works in this series at this point, but I'd love to hear ideas and suggestions! Also, I might start posting a bit for frequently to work through some of the backlog, so you're welcome/I'm sorry!


End file.
